


Cantique de Noël

by Mareel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Eve, Christmas Party, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, M/M, Music, Romance, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2844434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mareel/pseuds/Mareel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson's only wish for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cantique de Noël

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kipli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kipli/gifts), [vanillabuzz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillabuzz/gifts).



> Written for the friends who introduced me to _Sherlock_. This is the first time I've tried to write them. It's simply a quiet vignette, where the timeline is only vaguely specified, except that is post-Season 3. It is John Watson's voice.

 

__________________________________________________

 

The party is winding down. 

It was a small group this year, which suits the two of us perfectly well. If Mrs. Hudson hadn't insisted that it simply isn't possible to let a Christmas Eve pass by unacknowledged by a festive gathering, well... we probably would have just decided to ring for take-away. Maybe have a toast of eggnog or some such rubbish at midnight. 

But not even Sherlock could stand against Mrs. Hudson's determination. The best we could manage was to limit the guest list. I wasn't sure if Mycroft would even show up, but he did, along with a suitably expensive single malt. Molly and Lestrade rounded out the group - and it still felt crowded in our small flat laden with more food than we'd eat in a week. 

I just saw the last of them off at the landing, all loaded up with extra biscuits and sweets, and locked the door behind me when I stepped back inside. We are due some private time, this first Christmas back together. 

"Going to change out of these clothes. I'll just be a few minutes. Can I bring you a fresh drink then?"

If Sherlock answered, it wasn't in words. He'd picked up his violin and after tuning, begun improvising or composing. I'm never sure of the difference, though I'm sure he would explain it to me in detail should I be foolish enough to ask. Not tonight. I don't need more talking tonight. I just want to curl up by the fire with the man I love. Maybe have a dram of Mycroft's fancy whisky, just enough so that the smoky peat flavour lingers on Sherlock's lips when I snog him senseless. 

When I get back, he's lost in the music. As I watch him silhouetted at the window against the clear starry night, the wandering notes have resolved into an old carol. One beginning slow, but ending joyously. 

As the last overtones die away, the crack of a log on the fire is the only sound. Abandoning the drinks, I move to stand behind Sherlock. With my arms wrapped around him, I rest my cheek against his shoulder, murmuring, "That was lovely."

Placing the instrument aside, he pulls me into his arms to kiss me. Now I have all I want for Christmas.

__________________________________________________

 


End file.
